


Three Old Men Hunt Ghosts (Johan Edition)

by Control_Room, phantomthief_fee



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Child Death, Gay Male Character, Ghosts, Mexican Character, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-14 03:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: After witnessing a supernatural occurrence at Echo Caves, Johan Ramirez asks a favor of the ghost hunters. He has a special ghost he wants them to help.





	Three Old Men Hunt Ghosts (Johan Edition)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gingie, Snowy, and Hyde](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861450) by [phantomthief_fee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee). 



This is based on [this ](http://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/182184402475/three-old-men-hunt-ghosts)story.

Snowy belongs to @Aceofintuition

Gingie belongs to @pipesflowforeverandever

* * *

Johan Ramirez rubbed at his face.

 

That had absolutely been a ghost, right?

 

He was not stupid, and he had eyes. No matter what Gingie or Snowy or Norman had said, there had been a ghost.

 

He knew it was real, he could feel it, simmering and pulsing with an unseen energy, but now, after the three ghost hunters left, the malicious aura of the cave seemed to dissipate into nothingness. 

 

He would go there just to hear the stream within the cave, letting the sounds of the water wash over him as he tried to put the men out of his memory.

 

Their business card seemed to taunt him. 

 

Gingie gave it to him, and it was so tempting, to call them and ask for their help in a personal matter. He did not want to waste their time.

 

This was personal, and he could deal with it on his own. He did not need help. He did not.

 

At the same time, he could not stand one more night lying awake.

 

He ignored it, pushing it off, holding out a little longer, trying to keep him out of his head.

 

He was so tired. Trying to push through art school as well as holding onto the park keeper job was wearing him down. 

 

After a week of staring at his ceiling, he sat up with a huff and grabbed his phone and the business card, shakily dialing in the number he received.

 

Johan pressed call.

 

* * *

 

 

"Gin, I can guarantee you that there are no spirits or demons in here," Snowy yawned, rolling his eyes at his partner in ghost hunting's antics. The man was determined to catch something in the old apartment, but nothing seemed obtrusive. It was highly likely the owner had called them for the publicity. The place was spooky enough, with bad lighting and unclean air ducts, but aside from that, it was sound. Nothing indicated a haunting. "Let's go."

 

"But it isn't even past four!" Gingie attempted to win him over. Norman sighed. "I'm certain that if we stay for a bit longer, something will show!"

 

"Even the spirit box didn't help, Gingersnaps," Snowy retorted. Gingie muttered something about the ghost being shy. "Shy or not, even if it exists, it's nothing harmful, that's certain, otherwise, we would be goners already. Face it, there's nothing here."

 

"Very well..." Gingie conceded, turning the spirit box off. "I had such high hopes for it too..."

 

"There's always next time." Snowy patted his back. Gingie remained dejected, although Snowy knew at least part of it was for show. Suddenly, though, they heard a phone ringing. Instinctively, Snowy patted his pockets. It wasn't uncommon for Ana to call him during their investigations. She had to be able to get a hold of him if there was an emergency, after all. But it was not for him this time, his phone merely with some notifications for alarms. Nor was it Norman, his phone shut off and on silent.

 

"I think it's yours," Snowy said, looking to Gingie. Gingie raised an eyebrow but nevertheless fished his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, it was his phone that was ringing, an unfamiliar number on the screen. He cautiously answered it.

 

"Hello?" Immediately his face lit up. "Ah! Mr. Ramirez! It's so lovely to hear from you! How are you?"

 

While he talked, Norman and Snowy kept packing up. They had what they'd come for. Gingie continued talking, going off to the side. When he returned, he was practically beaming. 

 

"What'd the kid have to say?" Snowy asked. 

 

"He has something to show us!" Gingie said brightly. 

 

"Something?" Snowy asked incredulously. "He didn't say anything other than that?"

 

"Er, no." Gingie's smile fell slightly but quickly reappeared in full. "He simply told me that he had found something he thought we would like to see. He said it was a different matter than the cave."

 

"That's not suspicious at all." Snowy snorted, folding his arms over his chest. Norman found himself agreeing.

 

"Come now, he's a perfectly decent young man," Gingie said. "He wouldn't do anything untoward to us."

 

Norman said nothing, just continuing to pack up. He didn't think Ramirez was a bad kid, but something about that call was strange. Normally when people called about places they wanted to investigate, they were pretty specific about where the place was and what they wanted to be investigated. Usually, though, it was Gingie or Norman who did the calling.

 

“Are you sure this case is a good idea?” Snowy, ever the skeptic, questioned.

 

"Of course it's a good idea!" Gingie insisted. Snowy gave him an incredulous look. Gingie paused. For a moment or two, they just stared at each other. Whether or not Gingie realized it, he was giving Snowy the most adorable puppy dog eyes. 

 

“When does he want us?” Snowy finally sighed. Immediately Gingie brightened, clapping his hands together. "Hurry up, spit it out."

 

"Oh, I knew you would come around!" He said. “He wants us as soon as we can, so I told him to give us three days to recuperate. And even if there is no ghost or spirit, it would be nice to spend some time with the lad would be nice, don’t you think?”

 

"One might think you're trying to adopt him." Norman stood up, laden with all their equipment. "As you tend to."

 

”You try to adopt too many kids, Gin,” Snowy could not help but laugh, rolling his eyes in agreement with Norman. "Way too many."

 

"I do not!" Gingie retorted, putting a hand to his heart, looking extremely offended. "I'm not trying to adopt him!"

 

"Sure, of course not," Snowy smirked and patted Gingie's shoulder. Gingie sputtered, following after him, attempting to defend himself. Norman just sighed and took up the rear with the remaining gear. Still... he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than their former guide was letting on. 

 

* * *

 

After three days, they were ready to face whatever it was that Johan wanted to show them. He gave them an address and they said they would meet him there. Snowy put the address into the GPS and they set off. 

 

It did not take long for them to notice something was... strange. In a regular, human way of course, but odd nonetheless. The GPS was leading them to what was basically the middle of nowhere. Norman and Snowy did not like this at all. They knew what happened to minorities in places like this. Then again, Johan was also a minority, but trust was a huge issue. How could they tell if the man was as firm as he claimed?

 

Their phone rang again as they were on their way.

 

"Thought I might give you a bit of help," Johan's stuttering voice quietly came through the receiver. "This place is pretty hard to find, even though it shouldn't be. It's a huge mansion, after all."

 

"Really now?" Gingie, intrigued, inquired. Johan hummed in confirmation with a cough. "And why is it in the middle of nowhere?"

 

"Well, legend has it that the family that owned the estate had some peculiarities they wanted to hide," Johan explained. "There was a lot of strife between family members, and they wanted to keep it hush hush."

 

"So, just a poltergeist type of thing?" Snowy asked, studying the GPS. Johan laughed, and it sent shivers up Snowy's spine. Norman immediately tensed. 

 

"Well?" Snowy tried to cover his uncertainty with impatience. 

 

"I'm assuming something more dangerous," Johan replied softly. Norman and Snowy exchanged an alarmed look. "I tried to get in, once, and... it did not end well."

 

"Why were you trying to get in?" Snowy pressed, trying to scope the situation better. There were certain kinds of people who went to haunted locations. Some of them were investigators, like their trio, some were thrillseekers, and some had... darker intentions. None of them seemed to fit the image Snowy had of Johan, meek and tired. 

 

"I'm a college kid in art school with a night job," he chuckled, "You do dumb things for fifty bucks."

 

"Mhm," Norman looked toward Gingie, and the younger man could see the concern in his eyes. He whispered to him. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

 

"Hopefully," he murmured back, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. To Johan, he asked, "What does this mansion look like?"

 

"You can't miss it," he cryptically answered. "It's massive, dark, and painted with vines."

 

"Painted?" Gingie asked, trying to figure out what he meant. "I'm not sure what that means. Are the vines physically there, or are they simply painted on?" 

 

"Painted on, in a very dark green."

 

"I see. When should we start being able to see it?"

 

"About three minutes from the place while driving," he replied. Snowy checked the GPS. They were five minutes away. "There's one tower higher than the rest."

 

"I think I see it," Norman said. Despite being older than both Snowy and Gingie, he was the one with the best eyesight. "It has an old Victorian look to it, right?"

 

"Yes, that's the one," Johan sighed, with a mix of relief and wistfulness. "Wait until you see the whole thing."

 

Snowy looked up. Sure enough, there was an immense tower right beside the trees surrounding the area, giving an eerie, almost surreal, aura to the landscape. Gingie tried to hold back the overwhelming sense of fear he suddenly got from gazing at it. He had always been of the mind that places had auras based on the things that had happened in them. And this place... it felt as though something quite terrible had happened here.

 

"It's something else, is it not, amigos?" Johan laughed wryly after none of them said anything. The mansion loomed before them. "Can you believe it was only abandoned six years ago when the presence of the ghost became unbearable?"

 

They pulled up to the area, Johan sitting on the steps in front of an iron wrought gate. He waved them over.

 

"This is also known as the Wind Estate," he informed them, pulling an old rusted key out of his pocket. Norman immediately wanted to ask where the boy had obtained said key, but thought better of it.  Johan opened the grate, and it creaked and groaned from disuse. "This way. Careful about which stones you step on, the webbed quartz ones have traps rigged to them."

 

"How do you know that?" Snowy asked as they followed him inside. 

 

"I told you, I've been here before," Johan answered, his soft smile assuring them. Snowy and Norman both looked over at Gingie. To his credit, Gingie also seemed a little put off by all this. But he was trying very hard to remain cheerful. 

 

"I'm sure it's nothing out of the ordinary," he said, perhaps more for his own benefit than for Snowy or Norman. Snowy just sighed to himself. Gingie was one of his best friends, but the other man was just far too trusting sometimes. 

 

Following Johan, they made their way inside. It took a bit of effort due to the traps, Gingie did end up tripping one of them, a weighted net flying down directly on top of him and triggering other traps, but they eventually they cut him free and made it inside. Almost immediately upon entering, the doors slammed shut behind them. The sound echoed through the oppressive silence of the manor, followed by the sickening click of the doors locking. 

 

"That's... new," Gingie said weakly. No ghost had ever instantly acknowledged them, and none especially attempted to harm or block them within moments.

 

"Kid, what was that?" Snowy turned to look at Johan, only to find the younger man walking calmly away. All his nervousness and excitement was gone. He seemed almost serene as he walked into the foyer, his footsteps stirring up clouds of dust, making him look like some kind of ethereal being gracing the mortal plane with his presence. 

 

"Gingersnap." Snowy hissed through a grimace, putting one hand on Gingie's shoulder. The older tilted his head to listen. "I don't like this."

 

"You know, I think I'm beginning to dislike it as well," Gingie admitted, his own smile faltering quite a bit. Norman turned back to the door, kicking it experimentally. He could probably try and force it. But past experience said that even his own strength would not work. Something definitely did not want them to leave. And so they would not. Not until they had completed whatever task it was they had been brought here to complete. 

 

"Are you coming?" Johan asked. He stood at the end of the main room, facing them with a small smile. Something about how the moonlight hit him seemed strange. Behind him was a huge portrait of four, the eyes of all the faces blotted out with a dark black substance, most likely ink, one of the faces entirely covered, the words 'traitor' and 'thief' encircling it. "The room is up here."

 

"Erm, yes. Of course," Gingie tried to summon up showman smile. "Lead the way, my dear boy!"

 

"If we die, you can explain it to Ana," Snowy whispered to Gingie as they began moving. 

 

"We aren't going to die." Gingie laughed and slapped his friend's back. His laughter, however, was hollow. Norman stood behind them, outwardly calm. Internally, he was preparing for a fight. He had bought silver knuckle dusters for this exact purpose, and they sat in his pocket. He could feel the cold metal pressing against his leg through the fabric. If things went bad, he would be ready. He was not just a cameraman, after all.

 

The trio followed Johan to what appeared to be a nursery. Like most of the manor, it was relatively empty, every surface covered in a thin layer of dust. The only things of note in the room were a rocking chair, a ribbon, and a shotgun. The rocking chair was devoid of any dust, and seemed to still be moving, back and forth, though perhaps it was a trick of the light. It had to be. The ribbon was blue, pink, and white, splattered by dark brown spots. Dried blood, always a bad sign. The shotgun alone was an indication of a horrific event. By this point, even Gingie was quite sure that this had been a bad idea. Johan had known exactly where to go. His steps had been confident and self-assured, never faltering and never straying. As though he had not just been here once.

 

"Alright, well, do your thing," Johan said, gesturing to the room. "This isn't my thing."

 

"My dear boy, I really think we'd all like to know exactly what is going on here," Gingie said. The aura he had felt when first laying eyes on the manor was strongest in this room. Just simply oozing toxicity, fear, anger, pain and overbearing oppression. 

 

"There's obviously something you're not telling us." Snowy folded his arms. Johan's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. "You know this place way too well for someone who claims to only have been here once." Normally, he would have used his height to intimidate the young man, but Johan... for a twenty some year old, he was colossal, definitely over seven feet, so he settled on just using his patented 'disappointed dad' look. 

 

"I'll explain later," Johan answered, smiling amiably. His fingers twitched in almost a typing fashion.

 

"Not later, now." Snowy took a step forward. Johan stood his ground. "This vague bullshit you've been pulling isn't gonna fly. Not anymore. Tell us what's going on or we walk."

 

" _ **L̕҉A̶̢͝T͏͢͡Ȩ̸̧҉̨R͟͏͡**_." The room around them seemed to glitch, like a corrupted computer program, suddenly jolting and wavering. Gingie let out an involuntary shriek and Norman reached for his knuckle dusters. Snowy took a step back, eyes widening. Quickly, the room returned to normal. Johan lowered his head, his shoulders slumping. 

 

"I'm sorry." He bit his lip, exhaling and rubbing his face. "The house isn't going to let you leave until I say so. So... Please. I need this. So badly. I need to... I'll explain after, I swear." He looked so small, so young, so tired. Gingie took an instinctive step toward Johan, a hand outstretched. He could not bear to see someone so young looking so absolutely defeated. Snowy held him back, though. Young as the man opposite them may have been, he was still a threat. He was keeping all three of them from their families. And that was something that Snowy could not allow. 

 

"Fine. We'll do it." 

 

"Thank you!" Johan's face lit up cautiously, still pained, but tears sparkled briefly in his eyes. "Thank you so much!" 

 

Snowy gave no response, gesturing to Norman to start setting up. For a moment, Norman did not move. Then he let go of the knuckle dusters, putting down the bag of equipment and starting to set up their usual array. Gingie knelt beside him to help. His hands were shaking so much it was almost impossible for him to do much of anything, but he managed to provide a little bit of assistance. 

 

Snowy kept watching Johan. He did not want to take his eyes off the kid, not after what he had seen. Snowy could count on one hand the number of people he had met who had supernatural powers. Not all of them had been malicious entities, but they had all been dangerous. This form of power, Johan's, was unlike any he had seen before, none like any documented. It was peculiar, and that made it all the more dangerous.

 

"Alright, all set up." Gingie stood up, giving everyone a shaky smile. Johan thanked him again. "Please, don't mention it."

 

"I'll go first," Snowy said. Loathe as he was to use it, he flipped on the spirit box. The grating sound of the static filled the room. 

 

"Anybody here?" Snowy asked, eyes scanning the room for any signs. "We know _someone's_ keeping us here, so you might as well come out and talk to us." He got no concrete answer. Only whispers and whistles. Snowy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This kind of response was not uncommon. Oftentimes, spirits refused to communicate if they were not comfortable with the people addressing them. That or they were just being difficult. This one just seemed nervous, though.

 

" _Sto... Icky... Apa...? Two...! e choice.... se...!"_

 

"Would you mind if I took a stab at it?" Gingie asked. There was a spark in his eyes. Something about the whispers had intrigued him.

 

"I've only been doing it for a couple minutes," Snowy replied, although he was more than happy to hand the spirit box over to Gingie. Gingie took up residence in the middle of the room, spirit box in his hands. 

 

"Hello there. I understand that this must be quite frightening to you. I would be scared as well if strangers burst into my home and started mucking about. But I assure you, we are not here to hurt you. So, please, won't you talk to us?" His tone was paternal and gentle, soothing everyone in the room.

 

"Who are you?" A voice came from the spirit box. It was soft and curious. It was a child's voice. Snowy's face morphed into one of shock. A child. He always hated when they got child spirits. They reminded him too much of his own child. Of Joy.

 

"My name is Joey Drew," Gingie replied. "Although, my friends tend to call me Gingie since the man behind me also happens to be named Joey Drew." He laughed. "We have nicknames to differentiate ourselves. I call him Snowy, on account of his hair. The other man with us is Norman Polk. He's our cameraman."

 

"Why do you need a cameraman?" The child asked with a giggle. The perfect picture of innocence. "That's just silly!" 

 

"We run a web show in our spare time," Gingie explained, smiling. "It's a bit of a pet project really. I've always been a big believer in the supernatural and I thought it would rather fun to go around looking for ghosts with dear Snowy!"

 

"And what do you do, Mr. Snowy, sir?" the voice eagerly and sweetly asked. They could almost feel the child bouncing on their toes.

 

"I humor him," Snowy replied. As Gingie talked with the ghost, Norman glanced down at Johan. The young man had come to stand with them when they had started trying to speak with whatever inhabited the house. Now, Johan had one hand over his mouth, the other clenched by his side, trying desperately to fight back tears. Gently, Norman pushed him forward. He stared at Norman in terror.

 

"I think Mr. Ramirez has something to say," he announced. Snowy and Gingie both turned to look at Johan. No one said anything.

 

The ghost giggled again, this time at the silence.

 

For a long time, Johan just stood there, one hand on his trembling lips, the other gripping his own wrist. Then he whispered...

 

"Aramis?"

 

"Papa?" Came the reply a moment or two later. 

 

The effect was almost instantaneous. Johan crumbled, tears spilling down his cheeks as great sobs shook his thin, long frame. 

 

"Oh, Aramis, I'm sorry," he sobbed, his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, I didn't... he... you... I... I could not... Aramis, Aramis... I'm sorry."

 

"Papa, don't cry," the voice, with some alarm, declared. Snowy stared at the man in the middle of the room. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Yet here he was, with a dead child. What had happened? "Uncle was mad, that's all."

 

"Mad?!" Johan let out a hysterical laugh, his hands clawing in his hair. Gingie felt waves of guilt and sadness pouring off of him. "Oh, Aramis, you wonderful, wonderful baby... oh... oh my baby... he was not mad. No... he... yes. For you, Aramis, he was mad."

 

"Oh, okay Papa!" A yawn interrupted them. A troubled and calmed look took over Johan's face. "What did you come home for, Papa?"

 

"I wanted to know if... if you wanted to go to sleep," Johan's voice was strained and high. "Not just for the night. Just sleep."

 

"That sounds..." Another yawn. "That sounds nice."

 

Johan knelt, his hands open.

 

"Can I hold you, Aramis?" He asked the air, his eyes brimming with a new wave of tears. A small child, no older than seven, slowly came into their plane. Their face was similar to Johan's with only a few differences, mostly rounder shapes. There was a ribbon doing up their hair. They made a hand motion to Johan, the universal child's language to be picked up. Johan's tears leaked from his eyes as he picked up his weightless child, holding them close to his chest, their head on his heart, swaying with them, making his way with heavy footsteps to the rocking chair. As he sat, Gingie nearly went into cardiogenic shock as he took in the damage to the child. A hole, a bullet hole, right through their skull, dripping with ectoplasmic blood. He gripped Snowy's arm, the taller man pale with the same feelings of disgust and shock. The creaking of the chair was the only hearable thing for a long moment before Johan's low tones filled the room.

 

"Duérmete niño..."

 

The shadows of the past bled into their present, another figure appearing on the floor. 

 

"Duérmete ya..."

 

The shotgun was in his hands, a smaller Johan and the child still in the same position they were in the present day.

 

"Que viene el cazador..."

 

The shadow Johan's arm was extended out against the person with the shotgun, a futile attempt to hold them back.

 

"Y te llevará...."

 

The man seemed to pause, Johan's hand, in both times, gently petting Aramis' head.

 

"Duérmete niño..."

 

The man then leaned his head back in a would have been a booming laugh, the shadow Johan cringing in fear.

 

"Duérmete ya..."

 

He pressed his child's head closer to his chest, the gun trained on his head, the man yelling something.

 

"Que viene el cazador..."

 

Johan seemed to choke, his shoulders shaking, wracked with pain.

 

"... y te disparará...."

 

There would have been a bang, and Aramis, the ghost, yawned, fading away out of Johan's arms.

 

The tall, thin, tired, young man sobbed and clutched at dissipating air.

 

Aramis faded away entirely, the painful aura of the room fading with them. Gingie let out a breath he had not known he had been holding.

 

Johan gripped his arms, rocking himself on the armchair, his face contorted in agony as he shook with sobs. 

 

"I owe you all an explanation..." He half groaned, half laughed, an arm over his eyes. "My name is Johan Ramirez, this is the Ramirez Estate. It is also called the Wind, or Atabulus Estate, that being a common name in my family. My father was one of these Atabuluses. He... he was killed by a man named Paul Drew when I was seven."

 

"That sounds very difficult. But you're safe now. That is in the past." Gingie took a step towards the exhausted young man. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, could you tell us what happened here?"

 

"That's relevant," Johan wryly laughed, pushing himself up shakily, eyeing the shotgun still in the corner of the room. "Paul married my mother. Along with him came Rico, my... my stepbrother."

 

He suddenly looked sick, clutching at his shoulder, and sitting on the floor, his hand beside the ribbon.

 

"Nine years after my father was killed," he swallowed, swaying where he sat. Gingie put a hand on his shoulder, and Johan smiled at him gratefully, then continued, his head lowered in shame. "Nine years later, my step brother hired some people to fix me."

 

"Fix you? Why would they want to fix you?" Snowy inquired, staring at the younger man. "There's nothing wrong with you." 

 

Johan stared at him solemnly for a long moment, with sadness and hurt in his eyes, eyes shielded by rose-colored half-moon lenses. He lowered the hand on his shoulder to undo his zip-up hoodie, pushing aside the left side. A rainbow heart pin glinted at them. Just seeing that pin told the older men all they needed to know. But Johan continued. 

 

"I'm... I'm gay," he confessed quietly, rubbing the curves of the pin. "It's been a curse so far, but I'm holding out for someone... maybe it's stupid. It probably is. But! Uh. Yes!"

 

"My dear boy, that's nothing to be ashamed of." Gingie's expression softened. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to fall in love." 

 

"It's... not falling in love, per se, that's the issue," he awkwardly informed, blushing. "But, back on topic, my, stepbrother hired some... _people_ to fix me. Eight and a half months later, Aramis was the result. I loved him. He was my son, no matter how crudely I had been given him. Then... he... my brother... saw him as a bother. Because my son would call away my attention from him. So he decided to take matters into his own hands. He was not mad. He wanted to hurt me."

 

Johan fell silent, looking to the shotgun, shuddering.

 

Snowy walked over, kneeling beside the two of them and putting a hand on Johan's shoulder. 

 

"I'm sorry, kid." He said. 

 

"It's alright," Johan brushed off the issue, rubbing his pin again. "If I wasn't gay they wouldn't have tried to fix me. It was my faul-"

 

"No. It was not your fault." Snowy's voice was firm as his grip on Johan's shoulder tightened. "Let me give you some advice, kid. Never let anyone make you feel less for things about yourself that you can't change." 

 

For a moment or two, Johan just stared at him. Then he smiled softly, tears glistening for a moment.

 

"Thank you," he quietly remarked his gratitude. "For everything. I really needed this. I... I needed to know that he would be alright."

 

He stumbled to his feet, holding Gingie's hand in his. "I-I'll reward you all, of course. Your time and help have been invaluable."

 

"There's really no need for that." Gingie tried to insist, but already Johan was pulling out envelopes of cash from a bag he had discarded on the floor. It was rare when people would pay them for their work, especially in personal matters.

 

"Son, I'm sure you need the money more than we do," Norman said as Johan tried to push the envelopes into their hands. 

 

"Please, I want you to have it," Johan said, smiling that peculiar small smile of his. "You've all done so much for me."

 

Eventually, he did manage to get them all to accept the money, and they packed up and began to depart. This case had been wholly unlike any other one they had ever encountered. Child spirits always tended to get to them. They were all fathers themselves, and the thought of losing their children was rather distressing. But to lose a child in such a violent way, and at such a young age... it was enough to make them all sick to their stomachs. As they started loading the car up, Johan came up to them.

 

"I'm always available if you need a hand," he offered, ironically assisting Norman with a bag. "I've got a much clearer head now, and hopefully better sleep, so I'll be up for mostly anything."

 

"Well, I very much appreciate that," Gingie replied, smiling. "It would be lovely to have you along on an investigation."

 

"Frankie does keep saying we need to find some way to connect with the 'youth'," Snowy snorted, bunny-earing the comment. "Might be a good idea to bring you on for a few episodes." 

 

"I'd like that." Johan smiled back at them. "Well, um, I'll see you all later."

 

Then he turned and walked away. Norman, Gingie, and Snowy got back into the car, driving back to town. 

 

The further they got away from the manor, the more what they had witnessed seemed like some kind of dream. But still, the impact of the night's events lingered over them like a cloud. They would not soon forget it. 

 

"Maybe you should have adopted him," Snowy said once town was in sight. "Sure seemed like you were in full 'dad' mode there."

 

"I couldn't help but notice you were doing the same," Gingie noted, smiling slyly as his eyes flicked over to Snowy. Norman sighed. He could feel an argument brewing here. But this was normal. This was comfortable. "You can't much deny it, my dear!"

 

Behind them, the manor stood stark against the starry sky. For the first time in a long time, it was truly quiet. The spirits had moved on. All was calm.

 

A low whistling gently swayed with the breeze. 

 

Even the living can find peace. 


End file.
